<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Tickets to the Gun Show by queenhomeslice</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25977913">Tickets to the Gun Show</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice'>queenhomeslice</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Random Promptis One-Shots [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Promptis - Freeform, Tattoos, prompto in a crop top with pelvic tattoos is a Look and you can't change my mind</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:00:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,699</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25977913</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompto has tattoos that Noctis doesn't know about...until now.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Random Promptis One-Shots [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830934</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>122</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Tickets to the Gun Show</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've had exactly two thoughts in my brain for days now, and they are thus: Prompto in a crop top; and Prompto with pelvic gun tattoos. </p><p>So, behold...the culmination of my very specific kinks.<br/>_______<br/>Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.</p><p> </p><p>Update: 9/02: NOW WITH FUCKING INCREDIBLE FANART: https://kuro-iz.tumblr.com/post/628182036951302144/tickets-to-the-gun-show-queenhomeslice-final</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Noctis is half-dozing on the couch, sci-fi movie marathon blaring out into the living room—this one’s about an ex-soldier on a red planet, and Noctis has seen it a hundred times, but he still watches it anyway because he’s bored as hell. Half-empty take-out containers litter the coffee table, as well as several empty cans of soda and energy drinks. A family-size bag of chips is on his stomach, and his black t-shirt (and fingertips) are stained with orange dust. Noct can’t even remember the last time he’s had a shower, but it’s the weekend and Ignis isn’t here to make him do shit. So there. </p><p>His phone buzzes and Noctis finally finds it under the throw pillows after ten minutes of fumbling with only one hand. His face heats up, and not from the flamin’ hot chip dust at the corners of his mouth. The text is simple—<em> Hey buddy, finished training for today, cool if I come chill?  </em>Well, duh, it’s always cool if Prompto comes to chill—except, Noctis isn’t always so "chill" about it. The stupid crush he had in high school still hasn’t gone away, even though they’re twenty now and Prompto’s in the newest batch of Crownsguard recruits. It’s even worse, seeing Prompto bulk up and link to Noct’s own magic and fire off those guns like he was born with them in his hands. When Prompto got down on one knee and looked up at Noctis with those bright blue eyes, specked with violet, and recited the oath of service to the crown to him—it might as well have been a marriage proposal for Noctis.  </p><p>But he doesn’t want to ruin their friendship, ever. Prom’s the first real friend that Noctis made on his own and dammit he wants to keep him, someone that doesn’t remind him that he’s a prince every five seconds. So—shove down the crush, keep acting like everything’s normal, chuckle at Prompto’s quips about going out to dive bars looking for girls, <em>keep acting like everything’s normal. </em>  </p><p> </p><p>A second text interrupts Noct’s thoughts. <em>Bro u alive? </em> </p><p>Shit. He started spiraling and he didn’t even respond. What a dweeb, Noctis curses to himself as he shakily types back an affirmative, not even caring that there’s chip smudge on his phone now. He tosses the device to the side and wills himself to focus on the aliens on his television.  </p><p> </p><p>There’s a knock on the door about thirty minutes later and Noctis grunts at it. The knob twists and suddenly Prompto’s standing in his doorway looking like an actual angel. Noctis can’t look away.  </p><p>“Hey couch potato!” he quips brightly as he slinks inside and shuts the door behind him.  </p><p>“Hey,” says Noctis, shoving more chips in his mouth. The <em>audacity</em>. Either Prompto doesn’t realize how hot he is, or he’s deliberately toying with Noct’s heart (and libido). His best friend is still flushed from training, but looks and smells clean, like he showered afterwards. His hair, which used to lie flat in high school, is now teased and spiked up like the back end of a  chocobo—but Noctis thinks it’s cute, anyway. It suits him, just like the skin-tight coeurl-print pants the blond is sporting. Noctis blinks. Gods, how does he even get those things <em>on</em>? Then there’s the real kicker of the black <em>crop top </em>Prompto’s wearing, which is emblazoned with the royal skull crest of Lucis.  </p><p>It’s like a punch to Noct’s gut—to see the royal symbol on Prompto. To realize that his best friend <em>belongs </em>to him now, in the deepest of ways. Noctis has violent flashes of thoughts—thoughts of <em>marking </em>Prompto, wondering how that lean torso would look with bruises sucked into them, wondering if he could make him come just by biting those lean hips... </p><p> </p><p>“Wait,” says Noctis, narrowing his gaze at the creamy sliver of skin above the waistband of Prompto’s jeans.  </p><p>“What? Dude, you’re kinda weirdin’ me out, you’ve been like, staring at me...” Prompto’s voice trails as he shuffles nervously in the foyer. “Did I like, do something?” </p><p>“What? No, uh, sorry. Just zoned out. But what is that?” Noctis points at Prompto’s midriff.  </p><p>“Huh? You mean these sweet abs that are comin’ in?” He waggles his eyebrows and Noct’s stomach does a flip.  </p><p>“No dummy. What’re those...markings?” </p><p>“Oh! I was waiting to tell you. Uh.” Prompto shrugs off his backpack and lets it thud to the floor, then unbuttons and unzips his jeans, missing the way Noctis sharply inhales. He peels the jeans—and gods, fuck, the waistband of his underwear—down to just above the bulge between his legs. Prompto shuffles closer and he <em>beams </em>at Noctis like a child showing off their messy finger painting. “They’re still healing, but! I dunno, I figured, Gladio has his tattoo, and Nyx with his face tats and hairstyle, I just wanted something to like...show I was really a part of something?” His voice trails up in pitch, hitching at the end. He bites his lip, desperate for his prince’s approval.  </p><p>Noctis is now face to face with Prompto’s undone skinny jeans—and he’s looking at two matching tattoos of Prompto’s handgun, one on either side, barrels pointing down to the happy trail of blond pubic hair that Noctis can’t stop staring at. The skin around the gun tattoos is still red and swollen, but the ink doesn’t look like it was done yesterday, so...new, but maybe a couple of weeks old? He actually leans in closer to Prompto’s bare skin (gods, grant me self-control, he prays) and looks at the details. There’s barbed wire wrapped around the handles, along with sunflowers and sylleblossoms woven in and behind the guns—but it’s the elegant script on the barrels of each gun that wipes Noct’s mind blank. On the right, <em>P. A.</em>; and on the left, <em>N. L. C.  </em> </p><p>Prompto’s belly moves as he exhales, and Noctis wonders why his confident best friend has been holding his breath. “You like ‘em?” he whispers.  </p><p>“Prom,” Noctis says, and damn, is that really his voice? He sounds so wrecked, like he’s just been fucked silly. “I...you did this...for me?” </p><p>“I mean, yeah kinda. For both of us, I guess? Uh. Like I said, I wanted a symbol of...I dunno. Something. You and me, or, uh...<em>us</em>.” </p><p>Noctis leans back and flicks his gaze up to his best friend. Prompto’s face is <em>red</em>, so red, freckles almost disappearing under the blush. His violet-blue eyes are wide, almost watery, and his plush pink mouth is hanging open, breath coming in short staccato bursts.  </p><p>It’s now or never. He’s going down in a blaze of glory, and if Prompto decides to follow him, then so be it.  </p><p> </p><p>Noctis grabs Prompto’s slender hips in his grubby hands, and he hears the small gasp from his best friend, which only steels his resolve. Noctis looks at the gun tattoos again and licks his lips, hoping he’s gotten all the chip dust off, and presses a soft kiss to the right gun, then the left gun.  </p><p>Prompto <em>moans</em>, immediately clapping a hand over his traitorous mouth with a violent <em>slap</em>. Noctis pulls away slowly and gazes up again at his best friend.  </p><p> </p><p>“Damn,” says Noctis. “Prompto, I...” </p><p>“Noct,” Prompto breathes, lowering his gloved hand. “I...you...” </p><p>“Was that okay?” Noctis asks, growing bold and thumbing over Prompto’s hip, just behind the edge of the inked weapon.  </p><p>Prompto chokes back a sob and nods. “Yeah, uh, yeah...” He suddenly looks embarrassed, and turns his head. “You...uh...made me...made me hard...” </p><p>Noctis blinks, wondering if he’s heard him right. Then he looks down, and oh—the bulge between Prompto’s legs is a bit more pronounced than before—and damn, he’s twitching. Noct’s breath catches in his throat as he silently thanks the Astrals for this gift. He wipes one hand on his sweatpants and gently places it over Prompto’s budding arousal, squeezing ever so slightly.  </p><p>Prompto makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and claps <em>both </em>hands over his mouth, legs shaking as he bucks forward into Noct’s palm.  </p><p>Oh.  </p><p>Okay then.  </p><p> </p><p>“How long?” Noctis has to ask. He’s gotta know if Prompto has been suffering like as he has.  </p><p>Prompto struggles to catch his breath, and he finally manages to look down at his prince. Noctis is <em>touching </em>him, and it’s almost too much for the blond to take. “I, uh—I mean I’ve liked you since we started talking, Noct, I just...” </p><p>Noctis nods in understanding. He's not mad—neither of them made a move, not wanting to ruin anything. Prompto had been just as awkward and friendless as he had been; Noct understands the silent pining all too well. “Me too,” he says silently, giving Prompto’s dick another light squeeze.  </p><p>“Fu-fuck, Noct,” Prompto whines, burying his face in his hands, trying so hard to keep his tender hips still. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna...” </p><p>“Bedroom,” orders Noctis.  </p><p>“Huh?” Prompto drops his hands, lip quivering.  </p><p>“Go to my bedroom,” Noctis says. “I’m gonna shower. Wait for me.” </p><p>“A-ah, uh...yeah sure,” Prompto breathes.  </p><p>Noctis leans back and stands, now face to face with Prompto. His best friend is looking at him like he’s everything in the world—how did Noctis not notice this before? He feels like such an idiot.  </p><p>“I’m not kissing you just yet,” Prompto teases quietly as he thumbs over Noct’s bottom lip, making Noctis gasp. “Chip face. Go clean up, bro.”  </p><p>Noctis laughs and shakes his head. He doesn’t know why he was so afraid—this is Prompto, his best friend. Nothing's changed—they've always been so easy with each other, and now, they can be even more honest and open. His heart feels so light as he trails the blond down the hallway. This feels like such a natural progression of their friendship, and he couldn’t be happier.  </p><p> </p><p>Prompto flings himself on Noct’s big king bed and winks as Noctis begins to undress in the doorway of his bathroom. “You’ve kept me waiting long enough—hurry up, Noct.”  </p><p>Noctis has never showered so fast in his life.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Someone please draw Prom in a crop top with gun tats on his pelvis please I'm like a thirsty woman in a desert here</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>